


Unsteady

by 26stars



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BUS Family - Freeform, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Ladies of SHIELD, Romantic Skimmons, aosficnet exchange, ask and you shall recieve, mama may, season 1-4 events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: Or: Five times seeking, one time soughtBus ladies taking care of one another throughout the years, helping one another pick up the pieces





	Unsteady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bus_Kids_Burgade (Inthemorninglight)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthemorninglight/gifts).



> Prompted by buskidsburgade for the aosficnet exchange, you mentioned thriving on hurt/comfort, and here we are. There's obviously a huge need for it with these three :(
> 
> C, I feel like I have no hope of writing any fic that does your gift to me in the last exchange justice, but it was an honor to get to try! Hope you enjoy. <3

1.

The first time it happens, it’s surprising for both of them.

Skye was still new to all of them, but she had been on the plane with them long enough that Jemma noticed both her presence and her absence—the first with a warm glow, the second with a sad acceptance. She had been relieved that Coulson had let the hacker stay with their team after everything that had happened the month before; it would have been sad to lose the only other girl her age on the plane. But now that a few more weeks had passed, Skye was no longer an abstract, a list of traits under the heading of Civilian Hacker Consultant. She was just _Skye_ , the girl whose laugh was a welcome sound even when it came at Jemma or Fitz’s expense, the non-agent who was throwing herself into every assignment handed to her (almost) without complaint, the person who was far braver than Jemma could even aspire to be…

Jemma didn’t see throwing herself out of a plane that day as brave, she saw it as logical. Either she went down, or they all did—the choice had been simple, really.

She’s showered by the time it happens, has washed the saltwater from her skin and hair and changed into fresh clothes. Has taken her scolding from Coulson and thanked Ward for his bravery and Fitz for his dedication and apologized for the lump on his head. Skye had hugged her in the cabin and May had given her a stern nod that communicated so much with only her gaze, and now, finally, Jemma is alone in her own bunk again.

Her hands tremble slightly on the mattress as she lies beneath her blankets, breathing steadily but unable to stop the shaking. _Lingering adrenal reactions,_ she knows, thinking of how focused she had to remain in the tiny window of time between realizing that she was infected and realizing that there was no way out but _out_ _of the plane_ … Now, the deferred fear is expanding in this vacuum of silence and darkness, the shaking threatening to bubble over into hysterics, so she clenches her jaw and breathes through her nose as steadily as possible…

Even then, she sits bolt-upright at the sound of a soft knock at her door.

“Yes?” She hopes her voice sounds somewhat normal.

“Jemma,” Skye’s voice comes through the panel. “Can I come in?”

She _doesn’t_ sound normal.

“All right,” Jemma answers softly, and Skye is through the door immediately, sliding it shut behind her and crowding onto the bed next to Jemma’s knees, leaning in and pulling Jemma into her arms again.

This is startling enough that Jemma still jerks back involuntarily, and Skye releases her immediately, though she remains staring hard at Jemma in the dark.

“Please don’t ever do that…do anything like that…again…” the young woman whispers, her dark eyes holding Jemma’s sternly. “I can’t…we need you.”

Reminded once again that Skye is newer to all this than she herself is, lab-rat but still SHIELD-trained, Jemma feels compassion well up immediately, and she reaches for Skye’s hand.

“You’ve been kidnapped, shot at, rammed with a vehicle, and held at gunpoint, all in the past two months,” Jemma reminds her. “You’re managing far better than I’ve been.”

But Skye only shakes her head, squeezing Jemma’s hand and still looking terrified. “Jemma, I just…”

Skye suddenly leans in and kisses her.

It’s intentional and sound but over very quickly, but this time Jemma is so surprised that she _doesn’t_ move.

“I’m sorry,” Skye says, dropping her eyes immediately, though she doesn’t let go of Jemma’s hand. “I care about you, and I don’t—“

Jemma cuts her off with another kiss.

 

2.

The second time, it’s still Skye doing the seeking, but it’s not Jemma she’s looking for—they’ve long since left separate rooms behind.

The California air is damp on her skin as Skye sneaks out of her and Jemma’s motel room, scanning the pool area for the person she’s hoping to see.

She’s still out there, sitting on a deck chair in the shadow of the building, but Skye knows she herself is fully illuminated as she approaches—nowhere to hide.

“Yes?” May says when Skye finally stops beside her chair, peering up at her in the half-dark.

Skye just leans forward and wraps her in a hug.

It’s scary. A little, at least. Not as scary as plummeting from a cruising-altitude plane, an experience that she and Jemma now have in common as of yesterday. But Skye has been meaning to say something all day, ever since she woke up at their halfway-home of a motel and May was suddenly back, no explanation or apology given but just _there_ , all Skye has wanted her to be…

Now, she stands stiffly in Skye’s arms as Skye says with actions what she can’t say with words. She knows this may be as confusing for May as it had once been for Jemma, but Skye makes herself hold on for a full _5-Mississippi,_ long enough to make sure she’s getting her point across. She’s about to pull away when she feels May’s arms move, haltingly rising to rest lightly on her back, barely more than her fingertips touching Skye but contact nonetheless. Encouraged, Skye continues to hold on, wordlessly communicating things she’s afraid May doesn’t want to hear.

_Don’t leave… please stay… you mean too much to me to lose again… I didn’t realize how much until I thought you were gone for good…_

In the past few months, she and May have exchanged so few words, most of them only perfunctory, and Skye still feels like she knows so little about the agent in front of her.

But she also knows how it felt to discover that she had disappeared from the Providence base, then to later find Billy dead and assume that Ward had lied about May leaving too…

But she’s not dead. And she’s back.

And Skye needs to make sure May hears, in some way or another, just how significant that is.

 

3.

The third time, Jemma beats her to it.

Skye doesn’t know what she expected—maybe that Jemma would stay by Fitz’s side every night until he woke, and that she would eventually make a bed for herself in the medical wing and forego any pretense of sleeping elsewhere. They had moved their stuff off the Bus and into the Playground three days ago, but Jemma had yet to spend a single night in the bunk that she and Skye had claimed for themselves. Fitz had yet to show any signs of waking, and Skye is trying not to feel hurt by this—Jemma has known and cared about Fitz far longer than she’s known Skye, and this is far from a small trauma. Skye had spent the first night in the medical wing with her, but the second night, Jemma had shooed her back to bed, insisting that there was no reason for Skye to sleep uncomfortably two nights in a row.

But now it’s the third night in the Playground, and Skye can’t sleep. The first two nights, she’d managed to silence her thoughts with pure weariness, but that trick isn’t working now. Too much ahead of them yawns with the unknown, and nothing around her is familiar enough to offer comfort.

_But familiar isn’t far away…_

The brick halls are eerily quiet as she steps out into the dimness, wrapping herself in a hoodie and padding down the concrete passages on socked feet. She doesn't pass the medical wing on her way out to the hangar, which is even colder with the lingering chill of spring nights. The cargo ramp of the Bus stands open, and Skye gives only a passing thought to the possibility that the plane will be no warmer as she climbs the ramp.

At the top of the spiral staircase, she steps into the dim cabin of their deserted former home, past the Cage where she had first been interrogated as a suspect, but in the seating area just past it, she freezes in her tracks as someone moves in the shadows.

The movement is May, seated on one of the sofas with her legs propped on the table, silently raising one hand at Skye before placing a finger to her lips.

“What are you doing here?” Skye whispers, stepping closer and peering through the shadows at their pilot.

“Same as you,” May answers. “Same as her.”

She points at the sofa beside her, and Skye is startled to see a second person curled on the cushions, the top of her head resting against May’s thigh. Only Jemma’s hair emerges from her cocoon of a blanket, and Skye’s heart breaks at the sight of it.

_She wouldn’t come back to your room but she would come out here…_

“It doesn’t matter,” May whispers solemnly, as if reading Skye’s mind. “You’re here too.”

Skye stares solemnly at her for a moment before closing the distance, climbing uninvited but unafraid into the remaining empty space on May’s other side. Tucking her cold feet beneath her legs, Skye leans into May’s shoulder, fitting herself around her and sinking into the familiarity. May’s arm comes to rest around her shoulders, and Skye eventually feels fingertips dragging gently through her hair. Peeking over, she sees May’s other hand doing the same thing to Jemma, who breathes deeply in sound sleep.

“Are we going to be okay?” Skye whispers, asking experience and asking for honesty.

“You can be,” May answers. “You’re definitely going to be different. And that can be okay.”

“Just don’t give up on each other?”

Beneath her cheek, Skye feels a suggestion of a sigh from May.

“Yeah. Usually, that’s what makes all the difference.”

 

4.

The fourth time, it’s just two of them again.

Too much has happened in the past few days for Jemma to process, but worst of all, most of it has been happening to Skye. The clash at Afterlife and the subsequent clashes in the Playground and on the Iliad, all the parts Skye’s parents played in it…Jemma knows Skye to well to hope that she isn’t drowning herself in guilt for all of it, even the parts out of her control.

Guilt, and grief, because she’s an orphan all over again.

Cal had been sent through TAHITI protocol the day before, and Jemma had watched from a distance as Skye said goodbye to him, the last remnant of the biological family she had spent her life looking for. Skye had vanished for the rest of the day after that, and though Jemma had looked for her in their familiar hiding spots (they don’t have a Bus to hide in anymore, though), she had understood an intentional effort for solitude when she saw one. Skye had eventually come back to their room that night, brushed off Jemma’s efforts to talk about anything that had happened, and simply curled in her arms and fallen asleep without shedding a tear.

Now, a day later, it seems to all be breaking loose, as Jemma at last finds Skye’s hiding place out on the roof, a second night already covering them and taking them further from the trauma of the past week but still not far enough.

Jemma doesn’t know where to begin with comforting words, but it doesn’t seem to matter, since Skye would barely hear her anyway. So she holds onto her girlfriend with intentional firmness, focusing on being steady as Skye shakes within her embrace, gasping through sobs and seeming to tremor with more than natural energy.

When Skye finally calms enough, or perhaps only runs out of tears, Jemma brushes back her hair and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“You are stronger than anyone I know, Skye,” she says. “We’ll get through this together. I know you’ll be all right.”

Skye isn’t looking at her, Jemma’s words seeming to prick at her wounds again as she winces and curls tighter into Jemma.

“But why did May leave, too?” Skye croaks out, and Jemma realizes that after everything that’s happened, this must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

She answers honestly.

“I don’t know.”

_I’d like to think she’s taking care of herself for once._

_But perhaps she didn’t think her absence would mean this much._

Jemma tightens her grip around Skye’s shoulders and stares up at the stars. “I’m not going anywhere, Skye. I promise.”

A few weeks later, she’s looking up at different stars in a different world and realizing that she has broken that promise in a way she had no idea was possible.

 

5.

The next time it happens, it’s to give, not receive.

Jemma has been back in their world long enough to have readjusted physically to everything by the time their team discovers who Lash really is. She isn’t there when the confrontation happens, but Daisy fills her in on everything when she gets back with the plane, the contained prisoner, the team…and May.

“She came back?” Jemma repeats, both stunned and stricken.

“I mean, I don’t know if she’s staying, but she came all the way back to base with us,” Daisy says, glancing around the common area, where she and Jemma are the only people still lingering, curled close to one another on the sofa. “For all I know, she’s just here to grab her stuff and leave for good.”

“You don’t really think that she’d leave without goodbye,” Jemma says, and she sees Daisy grit her teeth.

“She did last time,” her girlfriend reminds her. “I thought she and I were closer than that, but I had to find out from Coulson when she took off last time. When I caught her in the base yesterday, she barely said ten words to me.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Jemma reminds her, and Daisy drops her eyes.

“So have we.”

They sit in silence for a while, and Daisy eventually puts her head down against Jemma’s shoulder, who runs her fingers comfortingly through her hair. It feels not unlike another memory, another night, another sofa…

“We should go check on her,” Jemma suggests in a whisper, having a feeling that the thought has already crossed Daisy’s mind.

“It's the middle of the night,” Daisy mutters in response.

“I doubt she’s asleep. And it’s the least we can do. Maybe the only thing.”

Against her, Daisy sighs, conceding. “Yeah.”

The walk hand in hand through the quiet halls, finding the door to the room that once belonged to May, and Jemma lets Daisy off the hook and knocks for the both of them.

“May?” she calls softly. “Are you in there?”

There is no reply, but Daisy surprises Jemma and reaches for the door handle.

May is curled beneath the covers of her bed and doesn’t acknowledge their presence as the two of them slip in in the darkness, but Jemma doesn’t think for a moment that the woman is asleep. Once they’re on the other side of the threshold, however, Jemma isn’t quite sure what to do next. Daisy takes the lead again though, crossing the space to May’s bed and climbing onto it next to her, though on top of the covers. She throws one glance to Jemma that says _Now don’t you dare leave me here alone_ , and Jemma follows suit, climbing onto the mattress on May’s other side.

The woman still doesn’t acknowledge them, but Daisy reaches over her body and takes Jemma’s hand, the two of them wrapping around the third person on three sides. For a few minutes, the three of them just lie together in silence, but then finally May’s whisper creeps out from the direction of her pillow.

“I’m okay.”

_You can go._

“I know,” Daisy answers.

_But we’re not going anywhere._

A few months later, however, Daisy is the one leaving sneaking away in the night, and May and Jemma are the ones being left.

 

+1

So the next time, it looks a little different.

Six months had passed since Jemma last saw Daisy when the girl suddenly jumped her in the apartment Jemma had gone to investigate. She was ready to move out of the shadows, ready to move on, but then Daisy had collapsed in front of her with a bullet in her shoulder and a broken arm, and Jemma had been unable to summon the resolve to be angry.

She had, however, outright rejected Daisy’s idea of going on her next mission without her. One thing led to another, and then it was Coulson bringing Daisy back in, not quite under arrest but obviously not by Daisy’s request.

Now, the plane has returned from the Morrow’s prison with the vigilante on board, but Jemma has yet to see Daisy emerge from the hangar. She’s had other tasks to take care of, other people to please and lies to tell, but now it’s the middle of the night and Daisy still hasn’t come in from the cold.

A nervous tug in Jemma’s stomach warns her that perhaps Daisy had disappeared again, leaving in the same way as May once had, without explanation or goodbye, but Jemma refuses to believe the worst until she’s confronted with it. Instead, she pulls on a jacket and makes her way to the passage that leads to the hangar, but just outside the sliding fire door, she runs into another person.

“She’s still in there,” May says in response to the surprise in Jemma’s expression, nodding slightly towards the plane. “Hasn’t left the cargo hold either.”

The Zephyr’s ramp stands open a few dozen meters away, far enough that Jemma doubts Daisy can hear them talk.

“I heard about her fight in the prison, but she never came in for medical,” Jemma says, crossing her arms. “Remind you of anyone?”

May’s own arms are already folded as she stares towards the plane.

“I didn’t want this for you,” the older woman suddenly says in a voice heavy with regret. “When I recommended you and Fitz to Fury for Coulson’s team, all those years back…” Jemma sees May purse her lips, as if pressing back against pain. “You were the best in your fields. Still are. This team would have been ended years ago if you weren’t the geniuses you are. But sometimes I think that still isn’t worth everything else that my decision has brought you both.”

“Stop trying to take credit for all the pain in our lives,” Jemma snaps, actually rolling her eyes. “You’re hardly that omnipotent.”

May glances at her, a shadow of pride flickering in her expression. “You’re better than all of us,” she says, sounding sincere. “I’m glad Daisy has you.”

“She has both of us, if you’re with me,” Jemma says looking expectantly back at the woman, and May nods. As if by some unspoken signal, they both turn and resume walking towards the plane.

Daisy is seated on the floor in the cargo hold, tucked back against a wall without even a jacket around her shoulders despite the chill of the metal space around her. She doesn’t look up as May and Jemma stride up the ramp, but she does address them before they get too close.

“It would be better if I stayed in here,” she says. “Mace isn’t supposed to know you’re working with me.”

“You’re too sneaky for that to be the only reason you’re out here,” May says, taking the lead and walking right past Daisy towards the plane’s cabin. Confused, Jemma watches her go, but when it becomes clear what May has in mind, Jemma smiles slightly and just sits down beside Daisy. Her friend doesn’t shift away, and Jemma dares to reach over and cover Daisy’s uncasted hand gently with her own.

“Are you staying?” she asks, hoping but not sure. “We can get everything smoothed over with the Director.”

“It’s not just…”

“It will never be just one thing, I know, Daisy, but are you staying?”

Daisy won’t face her. “Do you want me to?”

Jemma sighs dramatically. “Are you honestly asking me that? I can’t believe you would ever think the answer would be anything but _yes_.”

May returns then, a small pile of blankets held in her arms. She drops one on Jemma’s lap without ceremony, then one on the floor beside Daisy.

“You don’t have to…” Daisy begins, finally looking up as May shakes out the third blanket and drops it around Jemma and Daisy’s shoulders.

“You’re right. I don’t. That’s not the point.”

Jemma unfolds the other blanket and arranges it over her and Daisy’s legs and chests, curling over against her to share warmth. May picks up the third blanket and wraps it around herself before sitting down against Daisy’s other side.

“Why do you get your own blanket?” Daisy mutters, and Jemma pokes her slightly within their blanket wraps.

“Seniority,” May answers dryly. “And propriety.”

Still, Jemma sees her lean against Daisy’s other shoulder, making her presence certain. Silence descends on them for a few minutes, except for them occasionally shifting to be more comfortable on the hard surfaces.

After a few minutes, Daisy suddenly sniffles, a tear splashing to the blanket.

“I’m sorry I left like I did.”

On her other side, May sighs.

“Me too.”

Jemma thinks of the way she too disappeared without warning once and sighs as well.

“It happens.”

_But we’re still here._

Jemma wants to ask for promises. That was something Skye used to do— _promise you won’t do that again…_ and Jemma used to offer— _I’m not going anywhere, I promise…_ But they all know better than to do that now. So Jemma just tightens her grip slightly on Daisy’s hand, trying to make the most of this moment, however long it will last. The three of them, holding onto one another in a still point amidst chaos, as futile as an umbrella in a hurricane but no less significant.

“We’re going to be okay,” she says certainly, telling the universe and herself as well as the others.

“Different, but okay,” Daisy adds, and Jemma gets the impression that those words mean something to May, who nudges Daisy gently with her head.

“That’s the spirit,” she mutters.

Thankfully, that one time is not the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for a somewhat abrupt ending, but you could wring years of fic out of all the hurt that these three have been through over the years. And even though their relationships have changed so much in between, I'm still very very glad these three still have one another.


End file.
